How to Make a Family
by wayward-tiger
Summary: John didn't make it back to the room in time.


John didn't make it back to the room in time.

John kicked open the door and ran to the boys' room. He had left Dean and Sam alone for several hours until Dean had called his cellphone close to ten minutes ago. The boy had complained about a strange scratching noise coming from outside of their bedroom door; meaning that something was in their motel room.

John rushed back to the motel, hoping to cease whatever activity caused Dean so much distress. When he got to the boys' room, he noticed the door was already opened; a tiny crack left available to reveal contents of the dimly lit room. John pushed the door open to find a shtriga hovering over his two sons' double bed.

Sam was lying on his back; body slumped and unmoving. Dean, on the other hand, was squirming about; his legs lightly kicked at the creature's body as it held his head in place. The shtriga was draining Dean of his life force; a bright aura floated from Dean's mouth that hung agape into the shtriga's own.

John panicked while watching his sons lay helpless and without a chance at escape. When he heard Dean scream, "Daddy," John immediately snapped back into action. He reached for his gun that was set on the coffee table outside of the door. John cocked the gun and aimed at the shtriga hovering above his sons.

"Hey, you sonovabitch!" John yelled; momentarily distracting the creature long enough to pull the trigger and blast its brains out.

The shtriga screamed as the bullet passed through its body. Its form dispersed into a thick black dust that scattered across the room. Dean—now free from the creature's grip—rolled over in bed and curled himself over top of his younger, identical twin brother, Sam. The elder brother shook and hollered with tears.

John slowly approached the edge of the bed; reaching his hand out to pat Dean on the back, "Are you boys alright?"

Dean raised his head from its spot on Sam's chest; tears and snot smearing his delicate child-like features. He looked at John and rapidly shook his head.

John felt a pit in his stomach as he gently pulled the youngest twin from Dean's desperate hold. The small child's chest was still, showing no signs of breathing or movement. John checked his pulse; his fingers unsteady with fear of what he suspected he might find.

John could locate no pule from Sam, regardless of how many times he tried to check him for some sign of life. John slumped forward and gripped his youngest to his chest. His vision blurred as tears began to flood his senses.

"Daddy?" Dean's tiny voice whimpered as the boy climbed onto Dean's lap beside his brother.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." John's voice broke from the overwhelming hiccups and tears.

John had Sam cremated the next day.

Five months after the death of his 8-year-old twin, Dean was still shaken by the events that occurred that night; the poor child had become withdrawn and afraid. Dean would often hide himself under the covers of his now single bed, praying that Sam would somehow come back to him if Dean cried enough. Dean stopped speaking altogether; his only communication relied solely on hand gestures and nods.

It pained John to watch his once playful son turn into such a lonely, depressed child. After the shtriga incident, John had decided to spend less time hunting in favor of spending more time with his only remaining son.

One time when John and Dean met a friend of John's—and old mechanic buddy from before their hunting days—John accidently slipped up and made the mistake of introducing Dean as 'Sam and Dean'. John didn't notice his slip of the tongue until Dean burst into tears and ran back to the car. John couldn't get Dean to come out of their motel room two week after that, because Dean was so upset.

A year had passed since the death of his youngest son, and John still found no closure for what had happened. Dean stayed a mute boy and began to stay close to his father; becoming John's faithful shadow wherever he went.

The two remaining Winchesters were sitting in the front bench of the impala; its windows rolled down with fresh July breeze blowing through their hair. They had stopped at a convenience stop off of the Maryland toll road, and were seated for a lunch of tempting cheese burgers and fries.

John went to lift his coke straw to his lips when he heard a faint, familiar voice carry from across the parking lot.

"Nathan, sit here while your mother and I go get us all something to eat for lunch." A well-dressed man instructed a fidgety 5-year-old boy that was seated on the picnic bench, "Don't let anyone take our spot, ok?"

The picnic table area was crowded with tourists that had stopped and decided to take a break from their long drives to and from the beach. The young boy with floppy brown hair and large hazel eyes was seated at the only unoccupied table.

"Okay, Daddy." The boy, Nathan, agreed.

John watched from across the parking lot as the boy's parents left him unattended. John couldn't believe how similar the boy had sounded to Sam. John thought that this surely wasn't just coincidence; what with him finding the boy that sounded exactly like Sam while his own son longed for a younger brother again.

John watched for another minute before he decided to make his move toward the child. He unbuckled his seatbelt and placed his lunch on the back bench of the car before opening the driver's side door.

"Wait here, Dean." John said before exiting the car, "I'll be back with a surprise." John closed the door and began cautiously stalking over to the small boy.

John retained focus on the boy as their distance apart lessened with each step he took. When he was close enough, John sat down on the bench next to the boy.

"Hey, kid." John greeted with a smile, "What's your name?"

The boy looked at John as any child would eye a suspicious stranger, but allowed himself to respond anyway. "Not s'posed to talk to strangers." The boy's familiar voice mumbled.

"Oh, Bud, I'm not a stranger. Your parents had me come over to check on you while they got food for your lunch." John assured the boy.

The child crossed his arms in a pouting motion.

"Okay, don't tell 'em I said anything, but they're getting you a Happy Meal." John lied through his teeth, watching Nathan's eyes light up at the news, "But they're going to be a while since there's a really long line at the restaurant."

The boy frowned with disappointment.

"But thankfully, there's another boy wanting to play with you while you wait." John grinned, "Wouldn't you rather make a new friend instead of pouting alone?"

The boy slowly nodded his agreement; his floppy brown hair bobbing up and down. John took his hand and started to lead him away from the table and toward the parking lot. The two stopped outside of the driver's side door; John kneeled down to get on eye-level with the young child.

John held onto the boy's arms and pulled him close as if to let him in on a secret, "We're going to play a game of 'house', okay?" John started, watching as the boy in his arms nodded, "I'm going to be the daddy, and you're going to be the baby brother, Sam, okay?"

The child nodded again.

"What's your name?" John asked.

"Sam." The boy spoke with confidence.

"Very good," John smiled, patting 'Sam' on the back, "Let's go meet your new brother, Sam."

John got to his feet and opened the car door. He helped lift his new son onto the front bench seat, and watched as his tiny body scooted across the leather interior. John noted as Dean watched with curiosity; unsure as to why there was a strange boy sharing his space. Dean looked up at his father, asking his father who the stranger was with his gaze.

"Dean, this is your brother, Sam." John introduced the child sitting between the two of them.

Sam looked over at Dean and smiled wide, "Hi, Dean, I'm Sam."

Dean's eyes widened as he began to shed tears at the sound of his lost brother's familiar voice, causing Sam to become distraught. Not knowing how to handle Dean's sudden outburst, Sam flung himself onto 'his brother' and embraced him with a tight hug.

"I'm sorry." The boy soothed Dean, rubbing soft circles into his back.

Dean looked at the young boy that held him close as he spoke, "I missed you, Sammy."

The two boys hugged each other close for the rest of the trip through Maryland, only letting go of each other when John handed them their own Happy Meal for dinner.

It wasn't until two days later that 5-year-old Nathan Walker was reported missing by his two worried parents.

Unfortunately, John didn't know of any child by that name; he only had his two sweet sons, Sam and Dean.


End file.
